


talk too much

by orphan_account



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: College AU, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, coffee shop AU, nearly nothing is canon, why do i write so many of these
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-16 22:43:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20610578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: based on talk too much by COINthe tags say half of the plot, the lyrics of the song say the other half





	talk too much

**Author's Note:**

> "you know i talk too much / honey come put your lips on mine and shut me up / we can blame it all on human nature / stay cool, it's just a kiss, so why you gotta be so talkative?"
> 
> \- COIN, Talk Too Much

Anthony J. Crowley is currently in a similar state to a drowned rat and is cussing out every single god he can name (which is a _lot_ \- he was way too obsessed with mythology at one, if not multiple, points in his life), while simultaneously trying to prevent his backpack, computer, and papers from meeting a fate like his. He curses and shakes his head violently, trying to shake rain out of his hair. However, it's a bit of a wasted effort, as the rain keeps pouring down in torrential amounts and drenching his hair yet again. Damn this college and its sudden rainstorms.

Crowley curses again and looks around campus, searching for a spot where he might be able to stay dry and (possibly) warm. His gaze stops on a small coffee shop that he's bypassed multiple times, and he makes a beeline towards it, praying that he won't drop any of his shit. Mercifully, he doesn't.

Crowley bursts through the shop door, a bell merrily announcing his arrival. He ignores everyone as their heads turn to look at him, and upon spotting an unoccupied table, saunters over to it. He dumps everything on the table and sinks into a chair, grimacing as he realizes that he will soon be sitting in a puddle of rainwater. God damn it.

He shakes out his hair again, glad that there's now a roof above him instead of an endless cascade of rainwater determined to make him look as bad as possible. He glances at his computer and sighs. Might as well get that poem analysis bullshit essay done with, as it seems like he'll be stuck here for a little while. Maybe his professor will be impressed if he turns in an assignment extra early. (Probably not. His professor seems like a hardass. A nice one, but still.)

Somebody clears their throat as Crowley reaches for his computer, and he startles. He looks up and meets the gaze of someone with fire-truck red hair, who's holding out a towel. "You look like you got dropped in a moldy pond and then run over by a tractor. Please, take the towel and dry yourself off. We don't need any more puddles in here."

Crowley blinks and reaches out automatically to take it. "That's oddly specific. But thanks." He runs the towel over his face.

"Don't mention it. D'you want a drink? You get a discount if you attend this university."

Crowley considers it. On one hand, he's somewhat close to being broke very very soon. But on the other, he gets a discount. Also, he's freezing and wouldn't mind a drink to warm him up. Especially because he doesn't have someone next to him to warm him up. In any way. (No, he's not salty. Just slightly bitter.) And what college student isn't broke?

"Sure. Just get me, like, a big cup of hot coffee. Shit, get me anything hot."

The server nods. "I'll send somebody over with a drink. I gotta get back to the counter."

"Thanks again..." Crowley trails off and looks at Fire Truck quizzically.

"Carmine."

"Thanks again, Carmine," Crowley smirks and salutes Carmine lazily. Carmine finally cracks a real smile and nods at Crowley.

"I already said don't mention it. Get that assignment done."

Crowley sighs and slowly opens his computer, opening a new document and slowly typing out the header and title. He sighs again and starts writing out the actual paper, but doesn't get very far before a mug is clunked in front of him.

"One macchiato. Very hot, per special request of Carmine. She said that you looked miserable and cold." The voice of the person speaking is rich and tinged with amusement. "She wasn't lying."

Crowley raises an eyebrow and looks up, his eyes landing on... oh. This was not what he meant by "anything hot." Although... he isn't about to complain. The young man standing in front of him has a kind face, platinum blonde hair, and sky blue eyes.

Crowley remembers his manners at the last moment. "Oh. thank you." He tries to get his mind back on track; it's currently veering off into territory that has to do with pink lips and clear blue eyes. "And say thank you to Carmine." He grabs his coffee and frowns, a thought crossing his mind. "Do I really look that miserable?" He takes a sip and lets his eyes flutter shut, letting out a moan. "Shit, this is good. Did you make this?"

Crowley opens his eyes to find the man blushing slightly. "Yeah. One of the easiest things to whip up to deliver to miserable, drowned rats."

Crowley blinks. "Did you just call me a-"

"Yes. You look like one."

Crowley blinks again and bursts out laughing. "Normally, I'd be slightly pissed, but right now, I can't say I mind." He winks. "I'm Crowley."

The man smiles easily. "I'm Azra. Is Crowley your real name?"

Crowley just shrugs. "It's technically Anthony J. Crowley, but I like Crowley."

Azra nods. "Crowley. I like it too. What does the J stand for?"

Crowley shrugs again. "It sounds nice. What's your full name?"

"Azra Zachariah Fell." Azra winces. "It's really stuffy. I don't like it much. Most people call me Azra, AZ, or Azzie."

"Azzie," Crowley tests the name out but shakes his head. "Don't like it much. I think 'angel' would be a bit better." He smirks a bit. "Are you opposed to that?"

Azra smirks back. "Nope."

Crowley grins. "Am I allowed to ask when you get off?"

Azra's smile grows as well. "Normally, I'd say no. I'll make an exception this time, though. You seem like an interesting person." He winks. "I get off in around an hour if you feel like sticking around until then."

"I think it'll be worth it," Crowley responds. "See you in an hour."

Aziraphale's smile is literally angelic. "See you soon." He leans in and pecks Crowley's cheek, then walks away. Crowley's heart goes into overdrive, and he reaches for his computer to wait out the hour.

~~~

Crowley does eventually manage to get the majority of the (stupid) essay done, but his eyes kept flicking towards the clock on the computer screen. The minutes tick by until an hour finally passes.

A loud screeching brings Crowley out of his thoughts, and he winces while looking for the source of the noise. Azra, now sitting next to him, smiles a bit sheepishly. "Hi."

Crowley brightens and closes his laptop quickly. "Hey. Are you done with your shift now?"

Azra nods.

The two lapse into easy conversation and talk about everything ranging from music to politics to favorite kinds of food. Crowley stays silent most of the time, just watching Azra and listening to him talk. He realizes that he could get lost in Azra's voice, and at the same time realizes that he's fallen just the tiniest bit. Damn. That was fast.

Lost in his mind, Crowley doesn't notice that Azra had asked him a question until he notices that Azra's looking at him with those blue eyes. Crowley's mouth acts without checking in with his brain, and he blurts out, "Do you want to go on a date sometime soon and maybe be my boyfriend?"

Azra blinks, eyebrows raising imperceptibly, and merely stares at Crowley.

Crowley realizes that he may have fucked up. Big time.

"Shit, I'm so sorry, I don't know if you're single - I mean, look at you, why would you be - shit, I don't even know your sexuality, I'm a fucking idiot, please ignore me, I don't know what came over me, I-" He's cut off by Azra kissing him.

"Shh."

Crowley's still trying to talk, his brain lagging behind a little bit. When he finally realizes what happened, he stutters to a stop and stares at Azra. "Is that a yes?"

Azra smiles, then leans forward until their foreheads are touching. "Shut up. Of course I'll be your boyfriend, you idiot."

"Angel..." Crowley breathes. "Are you sure?"

"You talk too much," Azra tsks, and closes the short distance in between their mouths. "Why do you have to be so talkative?"

Crowley shuts up. Sometimes silence is golden.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!


End file.
